


Words Said in Darkness

by mark_my_words_tonight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mark_my_words_tonight/pseuds/mark_my_words_tonight
Summary: In which Dean is a soldier before World War II and Castiel is a bartender. These two star-crossed lovers share words in secret.(Prompt from Tumblr. Under the cover of darkness)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: Demon Void Army - Family Album, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Words Said in Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fun little fanfic that is based on my love of Dean as a soldier boy. This lovely prompt came from all-or-nothing-baby on Tumblr and I had a great time writing it.
> 
> All right! Go on and enjoy! :)
> 
> (PS: If you're here because you're frustrated with me for not posting since like, November, I promise that there's a fic in the works *wink*).

* * *

The air inside the bar was warm and stifling and the clang of human chatter was almost too much for Dean. The choked feeling in his throat wouldn’t dissipate. His hands were sweaty and his heart was beating far too fast for comfort. It had been far too long since he’d walked the floors of The Roadhouse, but even now, with the suffocating number of people around him and his buddies in their uniforms already dispersing to find lovely ladies to entice for the night, there was only one face he was looking for.

He traversed through the chaos of tables, chairs, and drunkards to the bar. If possible, his heartbeat sped up as a mop of raven hair came into view. The owner of this inky black hair currently had his neck bent and was so focused on drying a glass, Dean thought he might shatter it with his piercing gaze alone.

There was a moment, just a single moment, where Dean thought to turn and run the other way. Of course, he would never do that. Not even if you paid him, because just the possibility of seeing that gorgeous, gummy smile had his heart soaring. He swept over to the bar and leaned on it, clearing his throat to get the attention of the dark-haired man before him. “Evenin’, sunshine. I could use a whiskey. Neat, if you don’t mind.” 

Castiel’s head shot up, his blue eyes wide in astonishment. He breathed a single word, “Dean.”

* * *

Castiel was, simply put, exhausted. He’d already had a steady stream of soldiers on leave from their assorted bases, all of them boasting about how they’d soon be “kicking some Nazi ass” or “showing Mr. Hitler who’s boss”. In actuality, he knew that as soon as they set foot on the battlefield, they would be terrified. Perhaps, he thought, it was better that they at least had their confidence to hide behind.

The night was going well, he supposed. His popularity with the ladies that frequented the bar could not be understated which usually resulted in some… interesting chats. In the moment at hand though, all of his energy was being focused onto one glass. He idly wondered how Dean was doing - idly, as if he didn’t  _ always  _ wonder about that exact thing - and if he was in good health.

As Castiel was about to put the glass down, a deep voice laced with bravado that inhabited so many of his dreams called out, “Evenin’, sunshine. I could use a whiskey. Neat, if you don’t mind.” 

His head had never shot up so fast. In front of him, clad in his army uniform, with his light brown, teetering on blonde hair glinting in the light of the bar, green eyes focused on him and only him, stood Dean Winchester. “Dean,” Castiel whispered into the empty space. The words came out reverently. Nearly like a prayer. Truthfully, that what Dean’s name was; a prayer. Or, rather, the answer to one.

Vaguely, Castiel realized that Dean’s mouth was moving but he didn’t register a single word. Before he knew what was happening, he was being led outside of the bar at a respectable distance. The second they made it out into the fresh night air, Castiel found himself pushed up against a wall, Dean’s face inches from his own.

Dean’s emerald eyes looked mystical, nearly magical in the moonlight. The air between them was filled with tension and unspoken words. “Cas,” Dean whispered.

Castiel tangled his fingers in Dean’s hair, not caring that he was getting hair gel on his fingers. He stared into the emerald oceans before him, searching for the comfort he’d been missing since the second Dean left him months ago, and finding it. The staring continued for what seemed like seconds and eons at the same time. Then, as if they had reached some sort of unspoken agreement, Castiel allowed himself to lean in and press his lips to Dean’s soft, warm ones.

Dean reacted as passionately as he did the first time they did this, pushing back and giving as good as he got. Dean’s whole body radiated warmth, making Castiel’s skin dance with heat, even in the cool air of that spring night. He wanted nothing better than to allow Dean to swallow him whole, pull him closer than he ever thought possible. Sparks danced between their lips as they both desperately tried to make up for lost time. Castiel nipped and Dean’s lips and at some point, it became a heated clash of teeth and tongues.

Eventually, Castiel lost track of time and allowed himself to become completely absorbed in the kiss. The effect was spell-binding. And, after what seemed like forever, and yet not long enough, Dean pulled away, gasping for air. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.

Castiel’s lips twitched upwards. “There was nothing holy about that, Dean,” he said, running his thumb over Dean’s cheek.

Dean huffed a breathless laugh. “Fuck you.”

“Here?” Castiel asked.

Dean hit Castiel’s arm, obviously not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to get his point across. Though, Dean’s eyes twinkled with pride. He knew that he had a hand in teaching Castiel how to include this many innuendos in his speech.

Castiel tipped his head back and drank in the cool air. It sent refreshing blades of ice running through his lungs. “I didn’t know you were coming back,” he mumbled. 

Dean sighed, his breathing a little uneven. “Neither did I.”

They shared a moment where Dean was just holding Castiel like nothing else mattered. Silent and grateful to be together.

Castiel eyed Dean carefully. “How long until you ship out?”

“No idea,” Dean replied, moving to rest his forehead on Castiel’s shoulder. “Could be days, weeks, or months. Bosses are still planning it out but it looks like I’ll be stationed somewhere over in Britain for a while before movin’ out.”

Castiel nodded silently. Ever since he met Dean when the man was first on leave and stopped in at the Roadhouse for a drink, he had known the day would come when he would ship out. It just terrified him. After all, Castiel felt so attached to the man and there were… words that he couldn’t - shouldn’t - say to someone who could die in the next few months. These were also words that he certainly shouldn’t say to a man. It could get them both killed and they knew it.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Dean’s knuckles softly brushing over his cheek. “You back with me yet, sunshine?”

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “How have you been?” he asked, doing his best to divert Dean’s attention from his jumbled up mess of feelings.

Dean sighed and leaned closer, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Been okay. I mostly… I mostly missed you, I guess,” he mumbled bashfully. That was the thing about Dean Winchester, he could say the most vulgar things without batting an eye, but if you asked him to say how he felt, he turned into a blushing grade-schooler. However, the endearing nature of this was not to be understated. 

Castiel managed a gentle, soft smile, despite his tumultuous thoughts and feelings that begged to be heard. “I missed you too, Dean.” 

Dean let out a strained breath. “This is so fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking  _ sorry _ , Cas.” He stepped back, away from Castiel and out of his space.

Castiel fought away the choked, rejected feeling that bubbled up in his chest. “For what, Dean?” he asked gently. It was hard to get information out of Dean without causing him to burst, though, Castiel considered himself an expert on the subject by now.

Dean turned his back on Castiel and tilted his head up towards the sky as if he was searching for some answers that only the moon and stars could provide him. Castiel reached out and placed a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. Instead of recoiling, like he half expected Dean to, the other man stayed put under his gentle touch.

“I’m… God, I’m sorry for doing this to you. You deserve so much fucking better,” Dean whispered. 

This… this confused Castiel more than anything the man had ever said. This included Dean’s references to music and singers that Castiel didn’t know. “Better…? Dean, I-”

Before he could say another word, Dean turned around and cut him off, sentences spilling out, rushed, as if he needed to say it before he lost the nerve, “You deserve better than this! I came back into your life after weeks of not seeing you and then pushed you into the first available alley and  _ used  _ you- Fuck! You deserve someone who won’t be leaving to go off and fight and possibly die in France or Germany or wherever the hell we’re storming! Someone who will stay here and make you breakfast in bed and just… Be able to say and be everything you deserve.” Dean’s eyes were frantic, desperate, and searching. 

Castiel took Dean’s hands, offering a calming presence. “Dean, it’s not of import to me whether you’ll be here for a month, a week, a day, an hour, a minute, or even just one more second. All that matters to me is that you mean the world to me. I’ve had much time to think and dream and the conclusion that I came to is that… I love you. And I will wait for you until the war is over and you come home. All that I ask is that you make it back to me safely, understand? Your safety is the most crucial thing for me.”

A pregnant pause filled the air. Dean’s eyes were wide in astonishment, taking in Castiel’s words as if he couldn't quite believe them. Then, moments later, he pressed his lips to Castiel’s again but, unlike their first kiss in the alley, it was just a soft press of lips. No heat or urgency, just two people memorizing each other, desperate to hold onto a single memory before it would be lost to the night.

Dean’s lips soon moved to Castiel’s neck and in between soft kisses, the whispered words, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” were pressed into Castiel’s skin. 

Soon, the two would have to part. Soon, Dean Winchester would be sent to Normandy and would nearly lose his life on Omaha Beach. Soon, Hitler would perish and the war would be over. But before any of that could happen, the two of them stood in an alleyway under the cover of darkness, saying words they would never be brave enough to speak in the light of day.

  
After all, words said in the dark are often the most secretive, the most precious, and the most dangerous. But, even years after, when Dean would return to Castiel’s arms after the war, Castiel would still hold the memory of that alleyway close, because it was the first time Dean truly allowed him to see every inch of his bared soul. At last, there were no secrets and no lies, just two people, fighting for a love that would never be recognized or appreciated. A love that could easily get both of them killed.

Words said under the cover of darkness and the cover of night are truly the most beautiful and the most truthful.


End file.
